hesitated between wishing to be a locomotive engineer or a famous
bandit--and when she had found, at seven, that the accident of sex
would probably debar her from either occupation, she had resolved
fiercely that some time before she died she would show the world in
general and the Van Gorder clan in particular that a woman was quite
as capable of dangerous exploits as a man. So far her life, while
exciting enough at moments, had never actually been dangerous and
time was slipping away without giving her an opportunity to prove
her hardiness of heart. Whenever she thought of this the fact
annoyed her extremely--and she thought of it now.

She threw down the morning paper disgustedly. Here she was at 65
--rich, safe, settled for the summer in a delightful country place
with a good cook, excellent servants, beautiful gardens and grounds
--everything as respectable and comfortable as--as a limousine!
And out in the world people were murdering and robbing each other,
floating over Niagara Falls in barrels, rescuing children from
burning houses, taming tigers, going to Africa to hunt gorillas,
doing all sorts of exciting things! She could not float over Niagara
Falls in a barrel; Lizzie Allen, her faithful old maid, would never
let her! She could not go to Africa to hunt gorillas; Sally Ogden,
her sister, would never let her hear the last of it. She could not
even, as she certainly would if the were a man, try and track down
this terrible creature, the Bat!

She sniffed disgruntledly. Things came to her much too easily.
Take this very house she was living in. Ten days ago she had
decided on the spur of the moment--a decision suddenly crystallized
by a weariness of charitable committees and the noise and heat of
New York--to take a place in the country for the summer. It was